


A Night at the Opera

by monodramatic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: DOROTHEA IS A CHILD HERE, Found Family, Gen, Mild Transphobia, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Trans Female Character, Two of them, my city now, totally platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monodramatic/pseuds/monodramatic
Summary: Enbarr, 1171A thin boy moves through the shadows backstage, doing everything he can to avoid being seen. He’s always been small, but he’s starting to get bigger, so soon it won’t be so easy to hide behind curtains and props. He knows he’ll get in trouble if anyone sees him, but what will they do? Throw him out on the street? It’s not like that’s much of a punishment.Written for FE Trans Week Day 5: Mentorship
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Manuela Casagranda
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32
Collections: Fire Emblem Trans Week 2020!





	A Night at the Opera

**Author's Note:**

> this is the last day of trans week for me! this time we get dorothea and her weird mom. havent written either of them before, and really i dont know very much about manuela compared to the students, but im still happy with how this turned out. 
> 
> trans week has been so much fun and im so happy to be a part of a fandom with an event like this. trust me when i say theres more trans content coming from me, as well as maybe some art in the future?

_ Ordelia, 1187 _

As much as Dorothea loves what she does, what does a girl have to do to put on her makeup in peace back here? Oh, how she longs for a private dressing room. She’s well known enough that she would probably have her own back in Enbarr by now, or at the very least share with someone else, but the Mittelfrank Opera House has spent the past nine months touring, and this much smaller Leicester venue doesn’t give anyone much extra space.

There’s a sharp tug on her hair, jerking her head enough to make her smear her lipstick halfway across her cheek. She shoots a glare at the mirror, hoping the woman behind her can feel it.

“Oh, sorry dear.”

She doesn’t  _ sound _ sorry, and she goes back to humming a tune and brushing through Dorothea’s hair as if the whole thing never happened. She has a sneaking suspicion Manuela is doing this on purpose, to get revenge on all the years she’s had her hair styled so brutally. There’s no winning this fight, so Dorothea just heaves a sigh before doing her best to scrub off her smudged lipstick.

~~~

_ Enbarr, 1171 _

A thin boy moves through the shadows backstage, doing everything he can to avoid being seen. He’s always been small, but he’s starting to get bigger, so soon it won’t be so easy to hide behind curtains and props. He knows he’ll get in trouble if anyone sees him, but what will they do? Throw him out on the street? It’s not like that’s much of a punishment.

For the past few shows, he’s tucked himself into an alleyway along the side of the opera house, just barely close enough to hear the performances. The words are too muffled for him to make out, but he can hear the voices and the music. At first he started coming here only for the weekly performances, but lately he’s started spending nearly all day here, listening to rehearsals and indistinct conversations.

He isn’t really sure what these operas are about, but sometimes, when the show is over and the nobles are leaving, he hears them talking about the stories. They mostly sound like love stories, and he can’t help but be bitter. Maybe if he had actually inherited that Crest, he could be in there and see it all for himself. He also hears the nobles gossip, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. Sometimes they say nice things, but mostly they don’t.

“Oh, she’s so talented!”  
“But don’t you know she used to be _a man?_ ”

It almost sounds like they came here just to laugh at her. He thinks it’s awfully rude. Aren’t nobles supposed to know their manners? And besides, she’s nearly always playing the leads, and he can hear her booming voice through the walls, so he knows how talented she is, and she must be really beautiful too. These rumors are what finally gave him the courage to sneak backstage.

A loud yell snaps him out of his thoughts. Suddenly someone is grabbing him from behind, pinning his wrists behind his back. He reflexively starts to struggle, even though he knows he can’t be stronger than the guard.

“Oh would you stop? He’s just a child!”

A pair of heels click across the wooden floor, getting louder as the person wearing them gets closer, before they stop entirely.

“Let him go. He’s not hurting anyone.”

The guard drops the boy’s wrists. The owner of the heels circles around in front of him, and drops to a knee to look him in the eyes.

“Hello there. Are you alright?”

She’s doing her best to not be intimidating, but she looks important, and he doesn’t know how to talk to important people. He just stares at her in shock.

“You must be here because you like the opera, right?”

He gives a shy nod.

“Come with me.”

She stands to her full height -- she’s so  _ tall _ , probably the tallest woman he has ever seen -- and gestures for him to follow, before taking off down one of the halls. The boy has to speed up a little to keep up with her long strides. She ushers him into a smaller room about halfway down the hall, before closing the door and sitting down on a plush bench near a desk with a mirror and all these tubes and powders the boy has never seen before. She faces away from the desk though, towards the center of the room, and gestures for the boy to sit down on the fancy sofa across from her. He shuffles over awkwardly and perches himself on the edge of the cushion.

“So, you looked like you were looking for someone?”

“Um, you, I think. You’re the lead, right?”

She beams.

“That I am. So what did you want to see me for?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to steel his nerves.

“I want to do what you do. I want to sing on stage like you, with dresses and pretty jewels. I don’t know much about music, but you’re like me. You did it, so maybe I can do it too.”

He sinks into himself, ashamed of what he’s just said. But the woman in front of him sits up straight and folds her hands into her lap, smile still on her face.

“Well then, I suppose you’ll just have to show me what you can do.”

~~~

_ Ordelia, 1187 _

“What are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re  _ nervous _ .” She says it almost mockingly, but Dorothea knows she’s just teasing, and she laughs along. She catches a glance at herself in the mirror, hair freshly curled. Manuela must have finished styling it while she was reminiscing.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m thinking about when I snuck into the opera house as a kid. It was so silly of me, but I’m happy I did it.”

“And look how you’ve grown since then.” She places her hands gently on Dorothea’s shoulders. “My little songbird. I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now stop bothering me, I have to finish my makeup.”

Manuela looks at Dorothea in the mirror and chuckles fondly. Once again, there's no heat behind the remark. She gives her protege a final pat on the shoulder before (literally and figuratively) getting out of her hair, leaving her to finish getting ready for the show.


End file.
